


so let me hold your hands

by eunzos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (steve voice) are you guys uh fondue-ing?, Canon Compliant, M/M, this is so cheesy it can be fondue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eunzos/pseuds/eunzos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this is the hand that hurts me, then let my hand be the one to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so let me hold your hands

Keith doesn’t ask.

It’s six in the morning, they’re sitting on a rooftop overlooking the broad horizon where the sun rises, and Shiro’s hand is in his. Keith recognizes the metallic thumb rubbing against his palm in slow, circular motions as a soothing gesture, but hours of this repetitive comfort still has him on the edge. Shiro’s touch, every inch of the silver from his hand to his arm, is unnatural.

He’s curious, figures that perhaps a bit of explanation on Shiro’s part would carry out this innate feeling of discomfort in his chest; but he doesn’t ask. Years of walking side-by-side with Shiro has taught him that, if asked, Shiro would tell him the bare bones of the story while reliving the vivid memories that flicker behind his restless eyes, reminding him of those unkind times. The least Keith can do is keep quiet.

But Shiro is sometimes far too observant.

When Keith draws his hand back and runs it through his hair as a pitiful excuse, Shiro looks at him.

“Something on your mind?”

Keith shakes his head and tucks his hand between his knees. The metallic fingers, cold from the unwarranted withdrawal of human heat, close and slowly retract once Shiro realizes Keith does not want to be touched. At least, not by this hand.

Shiro leans back on both palms, lets out a breath that has been caught in his throat for some while. Now it’s Keith’s turn to look over.

“You all right?”

He knows Keith would call bullshit if he lies, so he says, “A little exhausted.”

Keith watches him, watches the tension crease between Shiro’s eyebrows as he lies down. His tainted right hand rests over his stomach, his left twitches.

“If you want to know, ask.”

Shiro’s eyes are closed, and Keith knows a nightmare exists behind those thinly-veiled eyelids; so he doesn’t ask. Instead, he lies down next to Shiro and cradles the back of his head with the fat of his palms. For many seconds, they subsist in each other’s existences, breathing in the same air that filters through their lungs like thick smoke. Neither moves, and the sun rises as it should.

“We should get back.”

“They wanted to create a human-Galran hybrid.”

Keith’s ears ring with bells of peril, and he doesn’t dare look over.

“You don’t have to tell me —”

“Once I proved my worth to them, they strapped me down and injected my fingers with this odd serum. I don’t remember much, but I remember looking down at my hand and seeing it rot away. It ate its way up to my elbow before they decided this wasn’t supposed to happen.” Shiro’s eyes flutter open in light of the sun’s indirect beam. “They chose to cut it off, the entire thing, to stop it from spreading to the rest of my body. Figured I wouldn’t be much of a soldier if I only had one arm, so they gave me another.”

“Did it hurt?”

Keith realizes the stupidity of that question the moment those words slipped out; but Shiro doesn’t give him a chance to follow up.

“Not as much as it should’ve. I was too immune to pain at that point that anything they did to me felt like a brush.”

Keith sits up. Shiro follows suit.

“Hey, look at me.”

Keith turns his head, but his eyes trail behind. He senses Shiro’s hand drawing close to his face and puts utmost effort into keeping a straight face, but when the cool touch of metal presses against his jawline, he flinches. His chest soars with remorse as his eyes find Shiro’s own; and Shiro must’ve seen the resolve in his unwavering gaze, because he doesn’t remove his hand.

In lieu of yielding, he asks, “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” Keith says, and it’s the truth. He’s not afraid of Shiro, but he would be lying if he says he’s not afraid of what Shiro can _become_.

Shiro leans in, hand still caressing Keith’s jaw, and pressed their foreheads together. His eyes close again, and he breathes his life into Keith’s parted lips.

“I won’t make promises.” Shiro’s voice is low, soft with a twinge of apprehension.

“Then don’t.”

“I don’t know if I would never hurt you. Sometimes I can’t think straight, sometimes I can’t see what’s real from what's not — but as long as I’m here, I promise I will protect you. And if I — if I lose control, if I can’t find myself, I want you to promise me that you will bring me back.”

At that, Keith jolts.

“What the hell are you saying? No, I’m not going to —”

Shiro cups his face with both hands, and in that moment, Keith feels the stress slipping from his clenched jaw. His right cheek radiates with heat from Shiro’s soft touch; unconsciously, he leans into it.

“Keith. Promise me.”

“No. That’s not reasonable. I _won’t_ —”

“ _Promise me_.”

The ghost of Shiro’s lips against his own sends tingles of uncertain passion down Keith’s spine. He shivers, an innate response, then squeezes his eyes shut, his shoulders falling forth.

“Fine,” he says after some time, voice thoroughly shaken by hesitation. “If this is the hand that hurts me —” He reaches up and places his fingers over Shiro’s metal ones. “— then let this hand be the one to stop it.”

It’s six in the morning, they’re sitting on a rooftop overlooking the broad horizon where the sun rises, and Shiro’s lips are on his. _This_ , they both decide, will not last.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i'm not even sure if shiro's arm is metallic but y'know what, it makes a nice contrast. also hello i haven't really written anything in like a year, so i'm crashing into the sheith fandom unarmed. find me on tumblr @ neruas. (-:
> 
> _title inspired by sweater weather - the neighborhood, which is an excellent sheith theme k_


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